


Dead Winter Reigned

by Sleepless_Malice



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types, The Hobbit - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: Angst, Barduil - Freeform, Barduilweek, Death, Depressing, Depressing Thoughts, Emotional Hurt, Goodbyes, Grief/Mourning, Hurt, Loss, M/M, Original Character Death(s), Suicidal Thoughts, this is no happy fic - proceed with caution
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-03
Updated: 2015-07-03
Packaged: 2018-04-07 00:53:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,006
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4243275
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sleepless_Malice/pseuds/Sleepless_Malice
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After Bard's death Thranduil returns to the Woodland Realm in search for solitude to cope with his partner's death.<br/>
<strong>(written for #barduilweek on tumblr - the prompt was 'death')</strong></p><p></p><p>
  <strong></strong>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dead Winter Reigned

**Author's Note:**

> **[Disclaimer]** \- Neither the elves nor Bard are mine - they are Tolkien's and PJs, I just love to play with them - no money is made from this.  
>  **[Music]** \- Loreena McKennitt - Prologue (from The book of secrets)  
>  **[Title]** \- The title is heavily inspired by "Blind Guardian's - Noldor" from the Nightfall in Middle-Earth album. "Dead winter reigns and tomorrow's still unknown."   
> **[Personal]** \- I wanted to write something for Barduilweek ever since it was announced - for the 'death' prompt to be precise... Well - as some of you might already know my father passed away exactly a week ago I simply didn't know if I could do it, if i would find the time .. but I did, even though this turned out to become completely different than what I originally had in mind. Also the writing style of this fic differs from my usual writing. I cannot deny that I have put a lot of personal emotions/thoughts I recently had into it (which probably is only natural - idk as I've never been in the situation before). I hope you still enjoy it.

*****

**Dead Winter Reigned**

*****

The King of the Elves had closed his ears to the sound of the bells and looked through the splendid hall with an indifference that was incomparably of, carefully hiding his true feelings from prying eyes. As always his physical appearance was stunning and more than a few whispered with wide eyes, being truly impressed by the regal figure. The elf was clad in dark velvet robes that perfectly matched his amber jewelry that adorned his garments, his perfect fingers. His body was present when the official burial words were spoken – by his heir and rightful new King of Dale – but Thranduil simply could not listen. His heart and mind was far away, lingering in sweet memories already, grief and sorrow occupying his very soul.

 _‘Bard .. Bard, King of Dale was no more.’_ The words echoed repeatedly through his head, over and over again until his stomach began to cringe from the emotional pain that rushed through him. Over the centuries Thranduil had mastered to hide his true emotions behind a perfectly shaped mask of indifference, only very few ever mastered to look behind it, to see the real person the icy King was – Bard among them. Today wasn’t any different – he looked as imperious as proud as ever – but never before had the mask lain so uncomfortably on his face.

The late King of Dale had passed away.

His ally.

His friend.

His beloved.

Was nothing more than a memory.

_‘And the bells shall toll in sadness, when the mortal king is dead’_

Ever since the moment the King had said his last goodbyes to his friends and family the bell was tolling loudly, reverberating through every inch of his body. Day and night. Night and Day. Day and Night – for three days until Thranduil felt as if his head would burst from the sound alone. Tired he was. So utterly tired that he had to force his eyes open. Usually fatigue hardly affected the Firstborn but Thranduil hadn’t slept for many days, spending the last days and nights at his partner’s bedside, savoring every second they had left together. And then, in the privacy of his chambers he had cried and wept until the tears would not come anymore.

 _Run!_ His heart felt as if it would scatter into a thousand pieces and his mind refused to form a coherent thought – desperately he wanted to get away from the scenery. He felt as if he could bear no more. Run away into the wilds like a haunted wild animal in search for sanctuary, in search for solemnity.

In search for peace.

The passing of the King couldn’t been done in secret, it was a stately affair and Thranduil knew it was his duty to be present until his lover’s body was no more, consumed by the searing flames. Attending the funeral was simply expected of him, it was his regal duty to pay a last homage to the King of Men who had been so much more to him than the closest ally the Woodland Realm ever had.

His friend, his loyal partner, the one who had mattered most to him the last decades. Thranduil watched the proceedings with a detachment that was so unlike him, having long said his last goodbye in private.

_‘And the bells shall toll in sadness, when the mortal king is dead’_

The moment the official part of the impressive funeral was over the King of the Elves was seen no more.

 

**~~**

In the far distance the bells were still tolling when Thranduil finally reached the boarders of his enchanted forest which was deeply covered under a silvery blanket of snow. Neither guards nor servants accompanied the King – he had denied every single one who had offered to keep him company, much to his subjects distaste. Parts of the forest were still not fully recovered from the sickness which had lain upon it years ago. The attack of dangerous beasts unlikely but not entirely impossibly. Yet the King wished to hear none of it, his temper flaring with the last remaining strength. No, he desired nothing more than being finally alone – with his thoughts, his grief, the unbearable sorrow that occupied his heart.

 _‘Bard..’_ Out of nowhere his lover’s face appeared before his inner eye, his grey hair framing the handsome face, his hazel eyes still keen and gentle at the time. Even if he knew it was nothing more than an illusion of his troubled mind Thranduil reached out to brush his fingertips against the other’s cheek.

The icy wind speed up and slowly snow began to fall softly down onto him; but it was entirely lost on him. A touch onto his horse flank was enough to speed the animal up when grief finally began to overwhelm him.

_Run!_

_RUN!_

He was home. Finally. Far away from prying eyes, from curious questions and stares of disbelief. It was not long before he reached the great gate that led into his halls of carven stone. The labyrinth of his halls which Bard and his children had so much loved, the gushing waterfalls and hidden natural pools.

_‘No more’_

Never again would they wander the corridors together, Bard’s eyes still widened in wonder and amazement upon the delicate craftsmanship. Never again would he carefully listen for footsteps in front of his chambers, hoping his lover would visit him.

_‘Never again.’_

Where his halls had once offered peace and solitude to the King of the Elves the stone around him now felt restricting and tight like a corset, suffocating his breathing. Thranduil had always loved best the stars and the gentle light of the moon, wandering the vast forests of Arda when nothing but the sound of the nightingale was heard. The darkest hours of the day had always offered him a tranquil comfort, the woods have always been a place where he could sooth his troubled mind. Much to his dislike ever since he had inherited his father’s throne he had to keep the nightly wanderings to a minimum.

 

**~~**

Thranduil closed his eyes as he drew in a last deep and steady breath before he turned around and stepped out of his vast halls into the darkness of the night. A frosty embrace of icy air welcomed him and snow-flakes swirled before his eyes,catching themselves in the long strands of his shining hair, settling down on his velvet robes, on his reddened cheeks. One by one. One by another. There was a softness in the touch when they brushed against his marble skin, melting away no second later than they came into contact with his face.

Winter reigned with its icy guts and howling winds, having a firm grip on the Woodland realm – it was the harshest winter since many years.

Dead winter reigned.

The pale moonlight which played through the leaf-less forest caressed the Elvenking’s blonde hair when he disappeared into his forest.

Soundlessly and carefully.

Finally. Involuntarily a heavy sigh of relief left his lips.

Without looking back once Thranduil walked along the snow-covered path which his bare feet seemed to find automatically, leading him far and further into the woods.

His stomach ached in scorn with every heavy breath he took, with every blissful moment of their relationship which came back to his mind. The wondrous first weeks of discovery, how they have settled into a sincere relationship not so long after, the excitement, the gentle touches and whispered affections.

_‘Bard was no more’_

Over the many years, Thranduil had lost countless subjects and friends, his father – even his beloved wife.

But now, this time everything was so different. So entirely different.

He felt like he was losing a part of himself, like he was slowly dying, following his beloved to a better place. Piece by piece, slowly and deliberately until his body was nothing more than a life-less shell around his dead soul. Legolas – the tiny elfling - had been his anchor when his wife had passed away millennia too earlier; his son and heir had been entirely dependent of him, hardly being able to walk back then. Wouldn’t it have been for him, Thranduil was not certain if he would have survived the grave and tragic loss all those years ago.

But Legolas was not more – he had had left his father’s kingdom, possibly never to return to his splendid halls.

He was – ALONE.

Utterly alone.

There was nothing left on this world to live for and the realization hurt bitterly.

His usual sparkling eyes were a dull grey soaked in unshed tears, his golden skin was pale as the cloudy sky that hung above his realm - all color was assembled in his reddened cheeks. Nothing was left of the regal, authorial figure Thranduil represented as King of the Woodland Realm – the elf he had pretended to be only hours ago. By now nothing of the the spell-binding and enchanting beauty the Elfking was, was gone, all but vanished.

Never had he cared less. Aye, he knew he should disgust himself for allow such horrid thought, but he did not find the strength to fight them, dissolving into a pool of misery.

Finally he could let go of all restrictions, of all expectations other’s had of him. He was alone – with his sadness. Grief and sorrow began to overwhelm him when the mask scattered into a thousand pieces and tears began to run freely down his face.

 _‘My friend. My ally. My beloved.’_ He – no both of them had found love when he had last expected it. Out of nowhere his guts cringed and turned upside down, and without warning he had to empty his already empty stomach.

_Memories – nothing more._

So many thoughts that were never voiced between them.

So many words that were never spoken.

So many.

So many more.

Just so many, many more.

The endless time of his immortal life wouldn’t have been enough to say everything he wished to say.

Never again would he hear Bard’s rumbling laughter, his smooth voice.

Never again would his hands wander through the dark strands of his partner’s hair, never again would his fingertips brush against the soft skin.

Never again can he complain when his lips were sore from his lover’s stubble.

Never again would he willingly surrender to his exploring hands and lips, relinquishing control in the most beautiful way.

For the rest of his immortal life - realization hit him once more and again his stomach cringed violently.

Sweet memories were all that persisted, everything he could live on.

Until the last memory would slowly fade, until his mind would refuse to picture his lover’s face – those dreadful thoughts began to occupied his troubled mind. He felt cold, so bitterly cold all of a sudden! Snow was still falling softly down on him but the cold did not come from the icy air but from the inside; from his heart.

Screams of despair soon mingled with heavy sobs – finally the tears which he had held back were allowed to flow freely down his cheeks, leaving salty trails down his cheeks.

The proud King of the Elves was reduced to a sobbing messing, his entire body shaking and quivering violently. Sobs soon turned into violent screams and back to sobs of desperation again when exhaustion began to overwhelm him.

Bard was gone.

Thranduil had no idea how he should ever cope with the sadness that occupied his heart, his very soul; he felt as the sorrow would eat him alive. Slowly – inch by inch until only ashes remained.

Life will never be the same again.

He had found a love so fierce, so tender – so alive when he had last expected it. What had started as a night spent in passion and wanton desire had developed into a sincere love over the following months.

And now everything that had ever been dear to him was gone.

Vanished.

Dead.

But not forgotten.

Countless days (and nights) they have spent in the elf’s forest under the starlit sky. Laughing and kissing, chatting the night away caught in each other’s arms until sleep overwhelmed them.

Intoxicated by sweet summer wine and their love for each other which seemed to be endless. And immortal although both knew Bard’s life followed the fate of death.

Nothing was left.

The bliss and the beauty of the awakening summer, the season both loved so much, was long gone.

Instead of summer now winter reigned.

Instead of laughter the icy wind howled through the night.

Instead of words of adoration tears now flowed freely.

Paralyzed.

That was how the once proud Elvenking felt. Love was the shield he had hidden behind, the shield which now was no more.

_‘And the bells shall toll in sadness, when the mortal king is dead’_

Muffled by the heavy snowfall the distinct sound of the bells still could be heard.

 

**~~**

Thranduil’s heart was beating rapidly and mostly also audibly. He was certain that Bard could hear it. He was still holding his hand, locking his eyes with his lover – it was the unmistakable feeling that their last moments had finally come. He knew it – and Bard did too, the man’s hard swallow told him as much. The Elvenking had mastered the pain that already began to occupy his heart – aye he had even managed to preserve his impassive impression but his eyes gave him away. They always did and over the years Bard had learnt to read every subtle change in them and today was not any different.

 _‘Do not…’_ Bard had whispered as he had raised his hands to touch his lover’s smooth cheek once more. _‘Death is just another path. Farewell.’_

 _‘Aye. Farewell my friend’_ he had answered, trying to fight the lump which began to form in his throat. The King of the Elves who had such a natural gift with words simply did not know how to phrase his thoughts, his emotions any longer. _‘Farewell my friend – my beloved – my everything.’_

 _‘Until we met again. This is not a goodbye forever, you know.’_ Bard had replied in words that were nothing more than a breathed whisper, a weak smile tucking at his lips. _‘Until we met again, meleth-nîn, until we met again in another place. I love you – I always have and I always will. I promise.’_

 _‘So do I meleth-nîn.”_ Thranduil whispered back. They looked at each other for a moment before they let their lips meet, before Thranduil kissed him tenderly, cupping his face with both hands. _‘So do I.’_

And then Bard had closed his eyes.

Words never meant so little, yet they never meant so much.

He died but his love for him was still there, here in the room. And in his heart.

Never before had Bard’s children seen the proud King crying– but now they did as tears ran freely down his cheeks.

 

**~~**

Involuntarily their last goodbye played repeatedly in his mind until Thranduil felt as if he would burst from sadness. With a heavy sigh he fell onto his knees into the snow, stretching out his arm to the massive weeping willow for support. Oh how many hours have they spent under this tree in the secluded clearing. Oh just how many summer nights with nothing except the stars as their witnesses. It felt as if it was yesterday, Bard’s taste still lingering on his lips, his fingers running up and down his spine. Instead of skillful fingers now tear after tear was running down his cheeks, mingling with the melting snowflakes.

One by one.

One by another.

Absently, Thranduil’s index finger ghosted over his wet lips the same way he had touched his lover a million times.

His throat felt tight. And tighter.

Nothing more than a sweet memory, blissful illusions. Gone forever, never to return.

 _‘Doomed to die’_ the words echoed through his head, over and over again. He had always know that Bard was mortal, his life bound to the fate of death but in all the years he had refused to think of his beloved’s end. When the first grey hairs had appeared on Bard’s head Thranduil had been fascinated by the change, ignoring that they were the visible manifestation of the man’s end.

It hurt! It hurt so much that no words were made to describe the pain that shook the elf, weeping like a child.

“So many things I wished to say, Bard. So many things I have never said. I love you, and I miss you. More than words can ever tell” he screamed into the wilderness and upon these words his sobbing only increased. It was unbearable.

His face was buried in his pale hands, tears running as they haven’t flowed in millennia. He cried and screamed into the nightly air, a heavy loneliness creeping into his heart, his body, his soul. How he wished to kiss his lover’s rosy lips again, to bury his hand in the dark strands, to devour every inch of the spell-binding body.

_‘Until we meet again’_

When they have first met the snow had danced through the ruins of Dale.

When they have first kissed the moon had shone upon them and snowflakes swirled around them.

When they first have devoured each other’s body the icy wind had howled outside.

Now Bard was gone – forever but still the wind howled relentlessly, the snow kept falling and falling.

A bitter cold embraced the Elvenking, but Thranduil did not feel cold. Not anymore.

He was lonely and numb.

Paralyzed by an indescribable sadness.

Heart-broken.

Like a fallen angel his body fell into the knee deep snow, his golden hair fanned out like a halo around his head.

Thranduil knew he should get up but he couldn’t find the strength to lift his exhausted body upwards, he was numb, unable to breathe, unable to think coherently.

He didn’t, couldn’t care – not anymore.

_‘Until we meet again. In another place.’_

When he closed his eyes with a heavy sigh, Bard’s hand, followed by a genuine smile appeared right before him _._

*

 

**Author's Note:**

> ~If you have enjoyed this work, feedback would be awesome~


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